


We Built an Army Full of Tender Bodies

by Verasteine



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Community: writerinadrawer, Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-19
Updated: 2009-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto has one tangible reminder from Canary Wharf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Built an Army Full of Tender Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://51stcenturyfox.livejournal.com/profile)[**51stcenturyfox**](http://51stcenturyfox.livejournal.com/) for the beta in the final hour. Title was supposed to be from The Pierces' "Three Wishes", until [](http://kilawater.livejournal.com/profile)[**kilawater**](http://kilawater.livejournal.com/) pointed out that the online lyrics weren't what was actually sung on the album. So, the title is mine, after all :).

The first time Jack undresses him, Ianto wants to double over to hide the scar on his abdomen. It sits right next to his appendix scar, from when he was fourteen, and he's never been selfconscious about that one. Lisa used to kiss it; she used to say she liked it, "Something to identify you by."

Later, when one of his team mates died when a piece of alien tech they'd categorised as harmless exploded, her words had felt ghoulish, and when they were next in bed, her head on his chest, she'd traced the scar with her finger and apologised. "I'm so sorry," she'd said, and when he'd finally relinquished the battle with his tears, she'd held him to her chest, stroking her fingers through his hair.

He knows the shape of the scar he wants to hide from Jack. Intimately, even though he never looks at it. In the morning, in the shower, he runs soap over it without looking, lets his fingers touch without feeling, as if the imprint of that scar on his finger tips will burn the way-- the way the metal on Lisa's skin had. The imprint of a button, that scar is, his plastic shirt button melting slowly into his flesh as he'd dragged her out of the fires. It became a jagged patch when he'd pulled his shirt free from his skin, later, at home, after setting her up in his storage unit at the bottom of the building. They'd both known he couldn't manage the stairs with her, and she wasn't mobile. Yet.

That first time, after Jack has stripped his shirt from his shoulders, he watches as Jack's eyes flick downward, and then away to other parts of his body. He briefly meets Jack's gaze, strangely daring him to speak, and Jack doesn't. Later Ianto thinks Jack was always good at reading people.

Jack doesn't comment on the scar, not for months. He leaves; he comes back, and then they lie together late one night, and Jack traces his finger over the appendectomy mark. Ianto curls up, away.

"Hey," Jack says softly, and tries to uncurl him with a hand on Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto uncoils a little, slowly, facing Jack and feeling different about it now. He doesn't know why, not yet -- that will come yet later again.

Jack traces a finger down his chest and further down, curves around the jagged patch of skin that neither of them talk about, and rests his fingertip against the neat, straight line. "Consequence of bad diet," he says softly, and Ianto blinks.

"Eradicated in your time?" he asks, more as a distraction than anything else.

"Well, pretty much," Jack begins, and his voice has that tone that signals the beginning of a Jack Harkness story. "My mother used to say that having your health isn't anything if you're not having fun. We were colonists, and you know..." He makes an empty gesture, and Ianto doesn't know, but keeps quiet anyway.

Jack's finger moves back up, running over the jagged mockery of skin sitting an inch and a half above the thin appendix line. Ianto wants to curl up, his stomach muscles clench, but somehow, Jack's single finger keeps him in place. He meets Jack's eyes, and there is so much compassion in that gaze that he wants to turn away again.

Jack slides his free hand under Ianto's shoulders and pulls him in close, almost cradling him. Ianto wants to protest, wants to move away, and remembers Lisa, holding him close and rocking him. Lisa, beautiful, glorious Lisa, whom he loved more than life itself and lost to such cruelty. "Jack--" he gasps, because he's suddenly not sure about staying here, about going, about up or down.

"Ssh," Jack whispers above him, keeping him safe and curled against Jack's chest. "This was never meant for you, Ianto. You were just a bystander. Just a bystander. Innocent."

Ianto takes a deep breath, and lets go.

\--  
_finis._


End file.
